Sherlock of the Dead
by Anonymonimus
Summary: It was a normal day and then, ten minutes later, it all went to shit. An airborne virus spread through the world, turning the recently dead and near dead into zombies. Sherlock and John must gather their friends and establish a fail-proof survival plan until someone does something about the apocalypse. But Sherlock might have different plans... RATING MAY VARY


**I dunno man, I thought it would be fun to throw them into a zombie apocalypse xP**

**So follow along and we'll see what happens!**

**BTW, not sure if there will be character deaths in the future...but there's a strong chance of that xP**

**ENJOY! And see you next chapter ;p**

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When John had awoken that morning, he had found, to his dismay, that they had run out of milk. And, as usual, a second after the disappointing discovery, Sherlock announced they were out of milk. Rather than say something sarcastic as he would normally have, John just sighed heavily and announced he would return shortly. Quickly, he changed, discarding his pyjama carelessly across his room as he slipped on some jeans and a shirt. He then marched to the door, grabbing his coat and keys while Sherlock continued to tap away on the computer he was staring at intently. John had considered asking if he wanted anything but decided against it for he was simply too tired and generally grumpy to listen to Sherlock's voice for an instant more. He loved the man, he was his best friend, but sometimes, he just wanted to strangle him.

He walked out of the building, saluting Miss Hudson who was cleaning the windows from the outside, and made his way to the nearest grocery store. It was a fine day, the sky was a bit too cloudy but still blue and lovely, and it seemed as though nothing could ruin the day that had just so recently begun. It's serenity, relaxing John and pulling him to a better mood, was interrupted momentarily by a crazy beggar and his pet seagull.

"The end is near!" he announced to the world, brandishing his cardboard sign, "Soon, everything we know will end! There is nothing we can do! We're all doomed! Doomed, I say!"

John walked pass him at a faster pace, wondering why so many beggars were fixated on the end of the world but brushed it off. The poor man was simply crazy and/or in need of attention. Never once had any of them been right about the end and it was likely that that one too would be wrong.

After walking another block and enjoying the brightness of the day, John had made it to the grocery store. He had made quick business of retrieving milk and grabbing some sugar, just in case they were low on it. He then made his way to the shortest line for the 'human service', as he called it. Ever since he had last tried to pay for milk with the 'robot' and had nearly torn it to pieces, he had decided to boycott it and wait in line for as long as it would take if it meant avoiding the self-service.

Ten minutes later, he was waiting to insert his credit card as to pay for the milk and sugar when a fight broke out. A crazed man had jumped a woman and seemed to be attempting to bite her. The others behind John and John himself immediately tore the man from the woman but she had already been bit by then. While the other bystanders took care in controlling the maniac that had bitten the woman, John examined her wound.

Although there was a considerable amount of blood flowing from the wound and a bit of torn flesh, John knew he could easily fix it with the equipment available in the pharmaceutical department attached to the grocery store. He asked the cashier permission to use their supplies and, upon receiving it, helped the woman up.

He spoke to her softly, repeating that everything would be fine and asking for her name – anything, really, to keep her mind away from the wound at her neck.

"Why would he do that?" she sobbed, "Who would just bite someone for no reason?"

"I don't really know…" John admitted, as puzzled as the victim herself, "he was probably mentally unstable…but he's taken care of now and I'll patch you up in a second. You'll be good to go soon."

He sat the woman on a chair near the prescription medicine counter and tore open a box of pain relievers, handing them to her. Luckily, she was able to swallow them without needing any water. Then, John found some disinfected towels and Band-Aids to cover the wound. It was as he cleaned the blood that he realized just how severe the wound truly was. The woman was going to need stitches.

"Alright," John said as he applied pressure next to the wound, "Your wound is a tad more severe than I thought it would be. I can stop the bleeding for a hour or two but you're going to need to check into a hospital and get stitches."

"Mm…'kay…" the woman moaned drowsily.

The hoarseness of her voice surprised John for the pain killers were only supposed to take effect in half an hour. He looked at her face and noticed she was horribly pale. "Uh…Miss?" John asked, "Are you alright?"

"Headache…" she moaned. "Tired…"

"That's strange…" John mumbled quizzically, "Well now I can't rely on you getting to the hospital yourself. I'll just cal—"

Suddenly, loud shrieking erupted from where the mad man had bitten the woman. From what John could hear, people were running and panicking, desperately trying to escape the building while an animalistic sounding man seemingly chased them. Though he couldn't see for himself, John felt the need to check. He removed his gun from his belt and told the ill woman he would return to her immediately.

He slowly approached the end of the aisle and, by then, the screaming had died out, but the animalistic sounds persisted. John paused and listened for a moment, trying to identify what the man was doing based off what he could hear…and if he didn't know any better, he would say the man was eating.

He peaked from where he was hiding and nearly vomited at the sight displayed before him. The man from earlier that had attacked the woman was hunched over and eating the contents of the corpse of a man who's throat had been viciously ripped out. John immediately took cover, desperate to keep from making any sound that would alert the maniac. Those efforts were promptly thrown away when, the sight of the woman inches from his face. She shrieked maddeningly and jumped John before he had the time to react, lunging from his neck.

She threw him to the ground and clawed in his direction while hissing and gnawing in his direction. John was just out of harm's reach, keeping the woman away at arm's length, and tried to calm the woman that had been close to fainting moments ago. But the more he spoke, the less she seemed to respond to the good sense he was trying to impose on her actions. And it was as he stared at her pale face that he noticed how pale her eyes had gotten. It was as though she had become blind or rather…

"Sod off, woman!" he finally shouted and managed to shove her away violently.

She toppled back and smashed her head against the floor, shattering her skull and spilling part of her brain along with a gallon of blood. John sat up horrified, shocked at how weak her body had become in such small amount of time. If anything, it would only have been logical for the woman to crack her skull compared to what had actually happened.

But he had little time to stare at the woman's body, his shouting had alerted the maniac who had been feeding on a dead body. John jumped to his feet and quickly faced his foe. He didn't bother ordering the man to stop, he had just killed a man and had been feeding from his dead remains, and instead, he shot him in the chest. But strangely, the wound barely seemed to affect him or slow him down. John shot a few more times and the man only fell dead when a bullet had firmly pierced his head.

Finally able to relax for a moment, John allowed him to release a breath he hadn't realized he had been holding. Something definitely strange was happening and he felt it would be best to stay indoors rather than go out searching for an answer.

He left the grocery store, abandoning his bag of purchased items and trotted outside. It had seemed that, in ten minutes, all of the world had gone to hell. Men, women and children ran frantically in any direction with the hopes of escaping the cannibals chasing after them. One of the cannibals, John recognized as the beggar who had announced the end of the world.

Chaos was everywhere and John didn't know what to do or how to help the people in danger around him. Finally, he reviewed his priorities and began running back to 221B, he had to make sure Sherlock and Miss Hudson were safe before acting any further.

He arrived to the apartment in record time, breathing heavily and horrified to see the beaten in head of a man at their doorstep. He tried opening the door but, thankfully, it was locked. He quickly pulled out his keys and entered the building, locking it again behind him.

"Sherlock!" he called as he ran up the stairs, "Is Miss Hudson—"

A sudden heavy blow was nailed to his head by a frying pan wielded by Miss Hudson before he could finish his sentence. John crumpled to his knees, clutching at his head in heavy pain and cursing bellow his breath.

"What the bloody hell!?" John snapped.

"Oh, sorry dear," Miss Hudson apologized sweetly, "I thought you were one of them…"

"What a silly mistake." Sherlock snorted as he approached them, "You'd do well to remember that the Infected are incapable of speaking, Miss Hudson. All those who will approach us from this point that will be capable of speech will be relatively harmless."

"Alright." She turned to John again, "Sorry dear, I really didn't mean to."

"John," Sherlock said immediately after, "Did you forget to get milk?"

"_Milk_?" John repeated as he got to his feet, "You're asking me about _milk_ when the world has completely gone to shit?"

"We're also low on sugar." Sherlock added, then he noticed the absence of bags. "Did you have another row with the machine?"

"Sherlock!" John snapped again, "There are people literally eating each other outside our building!"

"Well I don't doubt that for a minute." Sherlock said calmly, retreating back to the flat to stare out the window. "I would be surprised if you told me otherwise."

"Why?" John asked, tailing his flat mate. "What's happening?"

"Isn't it obvious, John?" Sherlock said, "This is a zombie apocalypse."


End file.
